Page 18 of Romancing the Rumrunner
Tony studied her. “That won’t be necessary. Sing them however you’d like. I will offer a word of advice, though. Unless you want every man out there coming after you like a dog in heat, you might want to make sure you don’t lock eyes with anyone but me when you’re putting your own delectable spin on things.” He drew a finger along her neck and Jessie shivered.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Solomon.”
She raised her head, jutting her little chin into the air. Trying to show him she wasn’t affected by him. Though all she managed to do was expose more of the creamy expanse of her neck. He longed for a taste of that silky skin. When her teeth scraped over her bottom lip, biting into the soft flesh, Tony sucked in a breath, the sight of it igniting a flash of desire that had his own lips trembling in response.
He mentally gave himself a shake. He was there to do a job, not to ogle a criminal suspect. No matter how charming the dame was. He looked Jessie over again. No. Even if she was some rumrunner’s girlfriend, she definitely wasn’t the type to go throwing herself at a man. In fact, despite that little show she’d put on up on the stage, he’d be willing to bet she was as innocent as a sweet little lamb. And he’d love to be the one to educate her.
Where the hell did that thought come from?He could just see Jameson’s face now. The man would never let him live it down. Tony had been sent in to seduce some information out of her, not be the one seduced. Hell, the woman had been in his office two minutes and in his life barely longer than that, and he was having fantasies about her like some lovesick schoolboy.
Judging by the look on her face, she was very aware of the path his thoughts had taken. And was amused. Tony closed his eyes and backed away from her, moving back to the other side of his desk and taking a seat. Maybe a little distance between them would help.
Nope. The tantalizing smell of her jasmine perfume still reached him, and he didn’t think it mattered how far away from her he was, the sight of her still teased parts of him he’d tried hard to ignore for the past few years.
Enough of this. Down to business! He gestured to her vacated chair and she hesitantly sat down again.
“So, Jessie. I’m looking for someone who can sing, six days a week ideally. A few hours each night. I’d pay you thirty dollars a week.
Jessie’s eyes widened a bit at that.
“Not enough?” he asked, knowing the price he’d stated was more than fair.
“No, that sounds fine. But I can only come in three days a week. I have…other obligations,” she said, not meeting his eyes.
Tony frowned at her to cover the spurt of excitement her words gave him. Coming into his speakeasy wouldn’t affect her time at the butcher shop, so she must be referring to her obligations to the Phoenix. And having her available for the Corkscrew might just give him a clue as to when The Red Phoenix was open for business, assuming she was there on the nights she wasn’t with Tony.
“All right then. Twenty dollars a week for three nights. Fair?”
Jessie nodded and he continued. “Good. We’ll work out a schedule for you. I have a collection of gowns you may use as your wardrobe and if there is anything you’d like to add to it, just let me know and I’ll try and get you what you need. So, do we have an agreement?”
Jessie hesitated, and for a second Tony was afraid she would say no. Luckily, Jessie nodded and stood, holding out her hand.
“Agreed.”
He took her hand and shook it, keeping hold of it a tad longer than necessary. She pulled her hand away and stepped back a bit.
“When would you like me to start?”
“Tomorrow night, if that is acceptable.”
She nodded. “That will be fine.”
“Great. Be here at 11:30 and I’ll have someone show you around and get you settled.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Tony watched her walk out of his office and then sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled against his chin. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the rush of satisfaction that spread through him. The most important part of his plan was now in place. It would be considerably easier to both keep tabs on Jessie Harlan, and get information out of her, if she was at his club, under his eye, than it would be if he had to continually drop in at her shop. With the added bonus of being able to pass along her schedule to Jameson. Their best shot at finding The Red Phoenix open for business and pulling off a successful raid were the days Jessie wasn’t scheduled to be at The Corkscrew. That oughta please the little rat bastard.
Thoughts of Jameson were quickly extinguished by the image of Jessie swaying on the stage. The dark, clandestine atmosphere of the club, and the delectable way the little live wire liked to perform, would make cozying up to her less of a challenge, that was for certain. Tony’s brow furrowed a bit at that, especially as images of Jessie’s full lips, delicious curves, and sultry blue eyes bombarded him. He needed to be careful not to get sucked into his own web. He must remember who was the bad guy. Jessie could not be as innocent as she seemed. She was, at the very least, protecting a criminal, and was possibly just as dirty as the Phoenix was. Tony had his orders. And he’d already paid the price for breaking orders once before. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
No. He had the delectable Miss Harlan right where he wanted her. He just needed to stick to the plan. Maybe this time he’d be able to do his job and no one would get hurt.
Chapter Seven
Jessie looked over her shoulder one last time and then ducked into the alley where the entrance to The Corkscrew was located. The cops had been keeping an eye on her place ever since she’d been with Mario, but she’d only seen them in the vicinity of her shop. Still, she tried to make sure she wasn’t being followed when she ventured out, just to be safe. The thought had crossed her mind that she should just lead the coppers right to Tony’s doorstep. That would solve the problem of him stealing her competition. It would not, however, give her any answers, and she needed to find out if Tony was working on his own or if he was part of a larger scheme. Either Willie’s or the Feds’. Either way, he was a potential threat and she needed to find out just how dangerous to her he was.
She stood at the back entrance of The Corkscrew and adjusted her parcels so she could knock. Three times, pause, two times, pause, then two short rapid knocks. She stood back and waited.
A small window set in the door slid open and a pair of squinty eyes stared at her.
